Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [162]
‘And the Ghost,’ remarked Nicholas. ‘Pray that she’s beating up to Madeira by now.’
Afterwards, it seemed insane to those who survived that they decided that night to proceed east, instead of boarding the Niccolò and simply sailing her home without Nicholas. Except that, of course, Jorge would never have abandoned his quest – to find not just gold, but the permanent source of the gold. And to both Diniz and Godscalc, it would have been cowardice.
The three days they spent in the canoe represented their first taste of real deprivation. They had water, and, choosing their landings with caution, were able to bribe food from unwilling people. Saloum showed them how to cook it on board, and which fish they could trust. Saloum taught the seamen how to propel the boat standing or sitting, and navigated for them until he grew too tired, and had to take rest.
He only slept through the day, and then by snatches, while the others worked in relays, attempting to carry out what he had taught them. By the second night they were all very weary, partly from ceaseless travelling and partly from fear, and strain, and the sudden winds which brought chill to the night, and battered them with baking dust through the day. The canoe leaked, and had to be baled. Bel and Gelis and Filipe spelled one another in that, because Filipe had no knack for the paddle, and by that time Nicholas and Godscalc and Diniz were helping the others. They had not yet seen any sign of the pinnace.
One man had begun to vomit by then, the kind of bile they had all seen before. Bel helped him as much as she could. While they had not suffered themselves on the voyage, they had witnessed others die at close quarters: from bites, stings, bad food, unexplained fevers. There was little privacy either: simply two open ends, and a long tattered hood made of matting which turned the central part of the boat into a tunnel. In that they hung cloths, and used buckets.
Nicholas appeared not to sleep. No one questioned their speed. It was understood that the party ahead must be caught: if they gained too much of a lead, they might vanish. Unless Lopez really left marks. Diniz said, once, ‘How do we know that we haven’t passed them?’
And Nicholas, poling, his eyes ahead in the dark, had said, ‘Because they’re too few for an ambush. Also, Lopez knows only one route, and that runs from the end of the river. They have to go there, and try to outstrip us.’
He was proved right at the rocks, which blocked the river and ended their voyage. There, Saloum bought information. ‘Lord? A Portuguese ship’s boat with a sail came here yesterday. Its people landed; the boat was dragged to the bushes and hidden.’
‘Burn it,’ said Nicholas. ‘Where did they go? Do they know how many there were?’
‘Eight,’ Saloum said. ‘And they passed north-east, to a place called Tambacounda.’
‘A trap?’ said Jorge da Silves.
‘No,’ said Saloum. ‘There is, drawn on a tree, the special sign that I told you of.’
They left the sick seaman there, at a village, and paid for his care. He clung to Bel, parting, and she kissed him. Then she went out and mounted the donkey they had bought for her. There were only six, for a party of fifteen. Godscalc said, ‘You shame me, the comfort you brought him.’ But all that day, riding, she found herself blowing her nose.
The transition from water to land was disturbing, and not